Alea Jacta Est: A Novel of the Fall of America (Future History of America Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

great lengths to cover his tracks.  He paid for the car in
cash.  He bought it used from someone who had just finished college and was
looking to unload a beaten up old clunker, cheap, no strings attached, no
questions asked.  Hakim paid an extra thousand to keep the deal quiet.  The kid
didn’t know or didn’t care about title and registration—more the better for
Hakim.  If traced, the car would still be listed under the name George
Humphries, of Topeka, Kansas.  He figured George would get a rather unpleasant
wakeup call sometime tomorrow morning.  He smiled as he climbed ever higher
through the pine trees, his footsteps muffled on the carpet of fallen pine
needles.
    To get the
cash to pay for the car, Hakim used America’s media yet again.  He had been
watching a news program about identity theft when the idea came to him.  Hakim
figured if he really wanted to, he could make quite a living off of the
criminal ideas broadcast by the media in America.  He was intrigued when the
reporter explained how credit cards could be stolen out of trash cans. 
    "People
receive pre-approved credit card offers all the time.  Anymore, you just throw
them in the trash as more “junk-mail” and forget them," the reporter had
explained with a somber face.  He arched his eyebrows for dramatic effect which
caused Hakim to laugh.  "The criminal," the reporter continued,
unabated, "then comes along in the middle of the night and digs through
your trash.  When he finds the credit card offer, he fills out the information,
puts his address down and gets the card in someone else’s name.  Now he’s free
to spend and when he doesn’t pay the bills the victim’s name comes up and it’s their credit that is ruined.  With a little thought, even the paper trial will lead
back to the victim.  Most identity thieves will never be caught—there are just
too many of these criminals out there and law enforcement resources cannot
match the number of credit offers sent out on a daily basis."
    Hakim had
wondered about collection agencies, though.  The reporter on the television
appeared to read his mind, for the bald man suddenly said, “The heartbreaking
part of all of this is when the authorities go to the address listed on file
for the card, they find nothing—by then the criminal has already moved on or
changed names.  If the identity thief knows what they’re doing and is cautious,
it’s very hard to catch them.” 
    Hakim
remembered thanking the reporter before he turned off the TV that night and
went out looking through the communal dumpster.   About an hour and a half
later, he had hit pay dirt.  The older lady down the hall had received a credit
card offer and thrown it out after recognizing it as junk mail.  Hakim took the
offer back to his place, filled it out, and a week later, had a brand new
$5,000-limit credit card.  He promptly asked for checks drawn on the credit
line, ostensibly for a balance transfer.  The credit card company was only too
happy to oblige, no doubt thinking of the interest charges they would accrue.         Hakim
then used the checks to obtain cash in order to pay for the car. 
    He very
quickly got a few more cards the same way and used them to buy his supplies
before anyone got suspicious.  After all, his plan was never to return to
Chicago.  The things he had set into play would make Chicago very…he thought
for a moment as he caught his breath and leaned against a pine tree.  What was the word? 
    Unpleasant.   Yes, that
was it.  He shifted the weight of the backpack a bit and continued further
upslope.  The going was a lot rougher now that he had left the car far below. 
He could barely make out its small shape on the black ribbon that was the
road. 
    Hakim knew
he probably would not live to see the final victory over America, but he knew
it would happen.  That was no small comfort.  And in the meantime, he and his
new, as yet unknown partner would have enough